Hearts in Seawater
by glitterpirate
Summary: Kurtofsky. My own take on the Pirate!Dave and Merman!Kurt AU. David is a pirate and a lone shipwreck survivor, at the mercy of a mysterious, beautiful boy.
1. Shipwrecked

Hello, everyone! :) So, here we are; after being inspired some great Pirate!Dave and Merman!Kurt fanfics, I decided to write my own. I can't promise it will be anything special, but I'll sure as hell have fun writing it!

Rating for this chapter: T

Here we go! I hope you enjoy :)

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><p><strong>Shipwrecked<strong>

_Wake up, David. Wake up._

He was face down in wet sand, the icy swell of the surf swirling around him and then drawing back, washing over him again, stirring him slowly like a mother's tender kisses. There was seaweed caught in his hair and knotted around his limbs. His boots were missing. His entire body ached bone-deep as if he were a man of a hundred and three.

David was a pirate, one who had struck terror and awe into the heart of every soul that crossed his path, before that heart was pierced through by a well aimed thrust of his cutlass. Only now he was laying on an empty beach, amongst driftwood, torn sailcloth and frayed rope. He was without a ship, and without a crew. It seemed he was suddenly and terribly alone, and this was his only thought as he lay prone and shivering in the surf. Seagulls wheeled above him. The sea crashed and boomed in his ears. He eventually mustered the strength to lift his head, spitting clumps of sand from his mouth and blinking salt water out of his stinging eyes.

He appeared to have been washed up on a small island, in a bay formed by a crescent of sharp black rocks. Ahead of him was the beginning of a dense forest that swathed most everything in a shimmering green cloak. The land rose steeply up and up beneath the forest, ending in a peak that was half obscured by mist. This island might once have been a volcano, he thought dimly.

He started to wriggle his limbs gingerly. Miraculously, no bones in his legs or arms seemed to be broken. An acute spike of pain in his chest indicated a cracked rib, however. He slowly reached out his arms, lifted his upper body, and began to drag himself further onto the beach, out of the water. The dry sand was white, fine, and pleasingly hot beneath the sun. He collapsed again, already exhausted after only a short distance. A tiny crab wandered past him towards the water, and as he followed it with his gaze he saw for the first time a deep wound in his calf, ragged and grisly. Nausea overwhelmed him as he looked at it, unable to tear his eyes away from the ruined flesh and the broad streaks of blood that issued from it and stained the sand. Darkness began to seep across his vision as he succumbed to unconsciousness. His head hit the soft sand, and he knew no more.

He never saw the slender figure of a boy watching him from the far end of the beach, silhouetted against the solid blue sky.

**000**

David awoke abruptly to nightfall on the island. He was on his back, stretched out beneath the last of the evening sky, its endless expanse stained red and blue with a dusting of stars that materialised shyly one by one.

It suddenly occurred to him that he was not where he had been laying before. At the present time this hardly seemed to matter, because he was so shocked to be alive; earlier he'd been certain that he was giving in to an inevitable death, alone and in agony on an unknown shore. He groaned a little, his mouth parched and his lips sticking with what tarry moisture was left on them, despairing at the prospect of a more prolonged demise than he had anticipated. He groped dazedly at his belt and found a tiny knife there that miraculously hadn't been dragged away by the churning sea. He unsheathed it with trembling hands, fumbling and dropping it a few times before pressing it against the struggling pulse in his throat. He tried to think of a prayer, but knew none. He tried to recall loved ones, but there weren't any. He let out a sob – a miserable, rasping sound that was lost under the crash of the waves and the chattering of unseen creatures in the forest – and let his arm drop back down to his side, opening his palm limply so that the blade tumbled away into the sand.

He cried to himself until a deep and dreamless sleep bore him from his troubles, until darkness enveloped the island.

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><p>Only a short chapter to start off with. I hope it was all right, thank you for reading!<p> 


	2. The Boy

Here we are again! I hope you liked the first chapter, even if it was short. My writing skills are (very) rusty, I'm afraid! :(

Rating for this chapter: T

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><p><strong>The Boy<strong>

Pale dawn bloomed on the horizon. Dave was roused by a sound that crept through the heavy darkness of sleep; a sweet, lovely sound, like the delicious trickle of a fresh spring or the nonsensical courtship of birds. Dave realised it was singing. There was somebody there with him, and they were _singing_.

He cracked open an eye, very slowly. For the first time he managed to take stock of where he had been surreptitiously moved to during his unconsciousness. He was lying beneath some sort of shelter that had been formed naturally from large leaves and branches, right where the forest met the beach.

A figure was crouched over him, humming a strange song that seemed to have no particular melody. David had never heard anything so enchanting in his life. He chose to lay motionless in the sand, feigning sleep, feeling blissful, boneless and pleasantly numb in the presence of this intriguing island creature. He watched as the figure - who was human in appearance - took a handful of crushed leaves and pressed them carefully on the gaping wound on his leg. More leaves were used to bind the gash and hold the medicine in place. As the weak light of morning grew stronger, the features of David's mysterious guardian were picked out in pale yellow. David risked another secretive look through barely opened eyelids, and saw that the stranger was a boy. A boy, he thought, though he did not look much younger than David himself, crouched down and singing quietly as he tended to the other cuts and abrasions on his body. The boy's brown hair flopped over eyes that were a pale and clever blue. Full, pink lips formed the wordless melody of his song as he busied himself with his work. David noted with profound discomfort that the boy was as naked as the day he was born, but for a rope of seashells knotted together with rough twine hanging about his neck. His skin was smooth, pale, and unblemished, apparently untouched by the intense sun and the wild island weather. David found that as he observed the delicate stranger that his discomfort was replaced by an entirely different set of emotions. Colour rose in his cheeks and heat coiled mischievously in his gut. Had he not been as weak as a baby, he would have already snared his prey swiftly before it had a chance to escape. Brief and lusty encounters were what this pirate lived for. But, for now, he decided he would simply lie there, watch, and be tended to.

The boy reached behind him and produced a large, chipped porcelain bowl. How he'd come to own such a thing in the middle of the ocean puzzled David, but these thoughts were hastily pushed aside when the bowl was brought to his lips and cool, fresh water drizzled down his bone-dry throat. Abandoning the pretence of sleep, he seized the bowl eagerly and drank deeply. The boy skittered backwards, startled. David finished the water in moments, sighing gratefully, and then held the empty bowl out to the boy. 'More,' he panted, licking his lips.

The boy gazed at him uncertainly with limpid eyes. He ran his fingers through the sand at his feet, then cocked his head and rested a cheek on his bent knees, looking at David shyly from beneath his eyelashes.

'More... please. I'm still very thirsty,' continued David gently, gesturing with the bowl in his hand. '_Please._'

The boy took the bowl and backed out of the shelter. He seemed to have understood, David thought with relief. Now all he needed was something to eat.

Not long after, the boy returned with the bowl brimming with fresh water. David drank. When he had finished, the boy took the bowl and left, returning with it full again. Back and forth he went, and with each drink David felt himself being slowly rejuvenated. The boy then brought a bundle of food wrapped in thick dark leaves. There were some ripe fruits, a mixture of nuts that had fallen from a tree, and a slimy fish that appeared to have had its head pounded in with a rock. David felt somewhat relieved that the fish wasn't meant for him; the boy picked it up and tore a chunk out of its belly with small pearly teeth, then proceeded to chew wetly while staring at David with quiet interest.

David reached for one of the fruits with an aching arm, but they had been placed a little too far from his grasp. He groaned in frustration. The rising sun was already beginning to bake the island, the air under the shelter becoming uncomfortably close and hot. Sweat broke out on David's forehead and ran into his eyes.

The boy put down his half-eaten fish and crawled towards David on hands and knees. He picked up one of the fruits and dug out a lump of its dark red flesh with his fingernails, then knelt beside David's head and gently lowered the food into the pirate's waiting mouth. David chewed it and swallowed. The fruit was juicy but peppered with bitter seeds. The boy repeated the action of tearing a piece from the fruit and feeding it to him. David felt like an infant bird, helpless and hungry. The boy sat above him, a sweetly tender expression playing across his face. His seashell necklace dangled in and out of David's eye-line and he watched it, fascinated. Sunlight dappled the boy's smooth shoulders, his sandy thighs, his careful hands. Cool fingers brushed David's lips and he struck out his tongue to taste them; he was rewarded with the tang of sea salt, as well as the juice of the fruit, and the blackening blood of the fish.

After finishing the rest of the food the boy had brought him, David relaxed as best he could, sated. A little of his strength had returned. Very soon, he thought optimistically, he would be able to get up and explore the island.

The boy crawled out of the shelter, taking his porcelain bowl with him. David suddenly spied his little knife – the one he had dropped the previous night – clutched in the boy's palm.

'Hey,' he croaked, struggling to push himself upright in the slippery sand, 'you give that back!'

The boy glanced at David briefly before darting out and across the beach, white sand arcing behind his every footfall, before swiftly vanishing from of sight.

'That was mine, you know!' yelled David, flopping onto his back with an angry sigh. But then, he supposed, the boy _had_ saved his life. A small knife was hardly a decent exchange for a deed as great as that.

'Oh... never mind. You can keep it!' shouted David reluctantly, not knowing whether the boy was still in earshot. Tiredness was stealing over him once more. He needed to rest. He let the sultry heat of the morning settle over him, and his eyelids began to flutter closed. Over the relentless roar of the waves he heard that voice again, light and beautiful. He smiled, and allowed the song to lull him into a peaceful doze.

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><p>Aaaand Dave's asleep again. I promise he won't spend too much more of his time in this fic asleep, lol. I hope you liked this chapter! I'm off to write some more! :)<p> 


	3. Name

Hello again! :) This chapter isn't very long, but I hope you like it anyway. Sorry, not much to say about this one, really. Thank you so much for the feedback/favourites so far!

Please read on and enjoy (hopefully)!

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><p><strong>Name<strong>

A week had passed since David had been washed ashore. He was intent on keeping a record of his days on the island, scoring a line in the trunk of a tree outside his shelter every morning. There was a lazy, sun-soaked monotony that seemed to hold the island suspended, dreamlike, in time. At first, unable to walk, he would sit in his shelter and watch for sails on the horizon from dawn until dusk. When night fell and the only light was the moon playing across the water, he would wait until he could no longer hold his head up or keep his eyes open. He was terrified of being lost to the world, swallowed by the mysterious island that slumbered blissfully like a lotus-eater. He didn't want to become a memory. He wanted to be found.

The boy had made himself scarce after their first encounter, although small parcels of foraged food and the porcelain bowl filled with water would be waiting for him when he awoke each morning. David kept watch for him, but would only glimpse him now and again; when he saw him he would be silhouetted against the brilliant backdrop of the sea, or sometimes treading the shoreline while dragging his feet through the hot sand. Sometimes he would be plucking crabs and shrimp and small fish from rock pools, or basking beneath the sun at midday, sprawled out on his back, absent-mindedly twirling his seashell necklace between his slender fingers. David would stare at him openly, but the boy didn't seem to notice, or care. The stranger always kept his distance, and David would spend the time he didn't use looking for passing ships to contemplate the other boy with a mixture of desire and mistrust. He had been startled awake on more than one occasion by the feeling that he was being _watched_. In the total blackness of night there was only the shiver of the trees in the wind and the rush of the sea and the calls of the forest creatures, but he was certain that out there in the blackness, or maybe even crouched beside him, looming over him like a nightmare, was...

Thinking of him as 'the boy' was getting tiresome, thought David. He decided that giving him a name would be the right thing to do. But perhaps he already had a name? It would be courteous to ask. That's if the boy understood him at all.

It had been a week, and David thought it was time he try and leave the shelter. He reached down to his bandaged leg to inspect his wound. He had woken each morning to it freshly cleaned and dressed. There was no smell, no flies. In fact, his leg didn't even hurt. He unwound the long strips of leaves, one by one, and when he was done, swallowed dryly and dared to look. He glanced, then froze, then stared in disbelief. The ugly gash in his leg was now no more than a jagged but otherwise perfectly healed scar. Clumps of the strange medicine that the boy had placed on it slid off, the skin beneath stained a light green. He lifted his leg, bent it at the knee, stretched it, and then touched the skin gingerly with the tips of his fingers. It was miraculous. He was certain that he would have died from the eventual putrefaction of the wound. His heart beat wildly with excitement at the prospect of movement, exploration, and escape.

David shifted onto his knees, and then crawled out of the shelter. Still weak, he had to hold onto a tree for support as he got to his feet. His legs trembled uncontrollably as he finally hoisted himself upright, but he didn't fall. He smiled to himself, victorious. The blank white disc of the sun glared down directly overhead. It was midday. Sure enough, on a large, flat rock where the sea met the sand lay the boy, lounging luxuriantly as he played with his necklace and combed his fingers slowly through his hair.

David inspected himself. He was wearing a white shirt with loose, drooping sleeves that hung past his fingertips, the fabric dirty and still crisp from dried seawater. A faded neck-cloth that was once a cheerful red was tied around his throat. His breeches were equally faded and stained with blood. Beneath those were his bare calves and feet. Though ragged and filthy, he convinced himself that he hadn't lost any of his charm. The women in port would never fail to drape themselves over him, to fall at his feet like he was a king. But then, he would be giving them gold at the end of the night. They had never interested him anyway. It wasn't the booze and the missing teeth and the clownish rouge that repelled him. It was the whores themselves, as people, as women. They weren't what he was looking for. What he was _longing_ for. The boy on the rock stretched his pale arms behind his head, fixing David with a languorous stare beneath sleepy eyelids. David licked his lips, and approached.

'You there,' he called, uncertainly, the cold surf lapping at his feet.

The boy ceased running his fingers through his hair and rolled onto his side, hearkening. The heat must make him drowsy, David noted, trying to keep his eyes trained on the boy's face as that marvellous body curled languidly over the rock it reclined on. 'You saved my life,' David continued after remembering how to breathe, 'I'm eternally grateful.'

The boy blinked slowly, uncomprehending. He crossed one leg casually over the other, the dried salt and sand that coated his skin shimmering in the light. He bit his bottom lip distractedly, apparently lost in his own world of thought as he observed David in silence.

'Do you have a name?' asked David, edging closer to the rock.

No answer. The boy lay down again, turning his head so that he might still look at the pirate, his pink-tinged cheek pressed against the cold stone. David was knee-deep in water now, the closest he'd ever been to the boy since he had been fed by him that second morning.

He struggled to think back to the people whom he had met on his many travels, trying to settle on a name that he remembered and liked. There was one man that sprang to mind – a rebellious French privateer who had caught David's eye during a stay in a pirate port some years ago. Curtis (David had referred to him fondly as _Kurtie_ in writing, unsure of how to spell his name) was his one and only fixation during many lonely months at sea, until he returned to that same port and found him absent. Upon further enquiries he discovered Curtis had been cut down – decapitated, in fact – by a particularly ferocious pirate captain. David had wept like a child and then drank himself into a stupor for a year before joining another crew and setting sail once more. To cut a long story short, that name had lingered on his mind ever since. _Curtis, Kurtie_... _Kurt_.

The heat of the sun was getting to David, making him feel strangely light and detached from his own body. He really _was_ weak from his ordeal. This island was like Hell disguised as Eden, he mused. He might never have read the Bible, but he knew of those two places at least; in one flames scorched you endlessly for your sins, while in the other temptation writhed naked and inviting within your reach. David knew which place he would prefer, and if giving into temptation in Eden meant an eternity in flames, he was prepared for the consequences. He was aflame right now; Hell couldn't be much different.

'Your name will be Kurt from now on,' announced David to the boy. Despite not understanding a word, 'Kurt' blessed David with a playful smile that made the pirate's legs quiver uncontrollably all over again.

'Why don't you come closer?' the pirate cajoled in a low voice, stretching out a trembling hand. He could almost anticipate the softness of that skin, the taste of it. The thought alone was maddening. But before his fingers could even brush against his arm, Kurt lurched backwards, his pale green eyes wide and alarmed.

'It's all right,' urged David, hand still outstretched, 'I'm not going to hurt you.' He reached forward again, almost managing to seize one delicate wrist before the boy snatched himself away and flung himself into the sea. 'I'm not going to hurt you!' reiterated David angrily, smacking the water with his palm. He waded in waist deep, bemused as to why Kurt hadn't resurfaced anywhere in sight. He looked up and down the beach, but there wasn't a soul. Looking out to sea again, he saw a large shadow flit among the shallows before disappearing in a flurry of silver. Cursing to himself, he waded back onto the beach and crawled into the shade of his shelter. He needn't let himself be distracted. He couldn't wait any longer. He needed to leave this place. It was time to search for supplies.

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><p>I promise that in the next chapter there will be a proper advance in the story and some actionexcitement! XD; Sorry merman!Kurt, David can't stare at you for the whole story, as fun as it is to write!

See you next chapter! :)


	4. Lost

Aaah! I've not updated this story in a little while! I had written half of this chapter and then got stuck, but after a bit of inspiration I managed to complete it. I hope you like it! Thank you all for reading, and for all the reviews and favourites so far, I really appreciate them! Thank you for putting up with my shaky writing skills!

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><p><strong>Lost<strong>

David spent the rest of the afternoon salvaging what was left of his ship from the shoreline of the island. It was an agonizingly slow task, his leg fully healed but his bruised chest and broken ribs making him breathless with pain. There was decent wood, rope and sailcloth to be taken. He laid his findings outside of his shelter, forming a plan as to what to do with it all.

Amongst the shattered remnants of the ship lay vestiges of life; some torn clothing here, a locket there, a shoe, a lantern, a water-logged book. David followed the beach farther than he had ever been before, sometimes forgetting the task at hand and wandering aimlessly through wet sand and surf, taking in the loneliness of the island and the vast, empty sea that met the horizon on all sides. He found only one corpse, bloated and foul and unrecognisable. He wrapped it in sailcloth and rolled it into a shallow grave made in the sand. He rinsed his hands and arms in the sea and splashed his face with the cold water before pressing on. He didn't grieve. There would be a time for that, another day. His mind was set resolutely on the prospect of escape.

A raft. That's how he'd do it. Planks of wood lashed together with rope, perhaps with a simple mast and sail. It would be relatively easy to make, thought David. The sun was beginning to set, his palms were full of splinters and his chest ached terribly. He would begin first thing tomorrow. But, for now, rest.

He had piled some dry driftwood in front of his shelter, surrounded by a neat ring of stones. He chipped some flint together until sparks flew and caught, blackened and burned. There was a slight chill in the air tonight. He noticed that the porcelain bowl of water and some morsels of food had been placed inside his shelter. He drank and ate ravenously, not realising how famished he was from his work. Kurt's footprints wound and doubled back in the sand, and there were deep dips and scuffs outside of his shelter, as if the boy had been pacing back and forth, perhaps waiting for David's return. David smiled. He lay down and watched the fire burn bright amber against the deep blue of encroaching night.

**000**

The next morning, David set about making his raft. He laid out the planks side by side. The sun beat down relentlessly and he mopped at his brow with his filthy shirt sleeve, before finally giving in and tearing off his shirt altogether, flinging it away with a curse. It was time to get to work. He wound the rope between the planks, tugged hard until he was satisfied that it were secure, then knotted it. Suddenly, a shape out of the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked up, and his heart leapt.

Kurt was regarding David from a distance, watching him curiously while playing with a large gull's feather that he might have found on one of his daily explorations of the beach.

_He doesn't seem able to stay away from me for long_, thought David amusedly. He straightened up, making a show of pulling the rope taut and drawing the planks together. Work-worn hands, strong arms, broad chest. He stopped to catch his breath and looked at Kurt, who showed no indication of being even remotely impressed by David's strength. The boy seemed more preoccupied with his feather. David shook his head and went back to what he was doing, although he couldn't help but observe Kurt at the edge of his vision. The boy's gaze wandered slyly from his feather over to David, a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth, something like fascination shining in his eyes. Distracted, David jerked harder than necessary on the rope and his ribs caught him with a sickly stab of pain. He gasped and swore and sat down slowly, breathing hard. He looked at Kurt again, who had now taken to lying on his back, trickling sand between his fingers.

'No, I don't need any help,' David muttered darkly, 'but thank you for your concern.'

He stroked his hand wearily over his chin and jaw, feeling the moderate cover of thick, straggly hair there. Sweet Anne Bonny, he was growing a beard. He must look ridiculous.

Seeing that David had given up on his raft-building for the moment, Kurt seemed to lose interest in him altogether and rose petulantly, walking towards the forest.

'Where are you going?' called David before he could stop himself.

Kurt didn't look back, disappearing in amongst the wild green that skirted the beach. David wondered if he would be able to lead him to the source of food and water that seemed in abundance on the island. He would need to gather supplies for when the time came to set sail, David told himself, and rose as quickly as his aching body would allow him, intent on pursuit.

**000**

Blackness.

_Where am I?_

David was lying on his side, body twisted awkwardly over a large tree root sprouting from the earth. It was dark, but no, it was not night-time... the air was hot and wet and stifling, solid in his throat and nostrils, making it difficult to breathe. Clouds of miniscule biting flies hovered lazily above his head, other unseen insects lazily traversing his exposed flesh. He shuddered with revulsion and retched slightly. Oh God, he was in so much pain, all over.

_I'm in the forest. I came into the forest to find... to follow..._

Why was he here? He craned his head groggily skywards, saw that the light of day was almost totally obscured by the thick, oppressive canopy of trees above him. Bushes bristling with thorns and vines heavy with poisoned leaves bore down on him from all sides. He couldn't move. It felt impossible. Once again, the realisation that he might die on this godforsaken island dawned on him. He groaned, a pitiful noise barely above a whisper, and his eyes slid shut. He let his head drop down into the sodden earth beneath him, the smell of it intensely rich. A slight breeze shook the canopy, causing it to sway. Dappled light swung to and fro across the forest floor before his eyes and an unseen bird cackled. He was so hungry, so thirsty.

_Thirsty._

There was another sound. It trickled beneath the rustling of the canopy, babbled over the cacophony of forest animals. The sound of _water_.

David lifted himself onto his elbows with surprising speed, ignoring the painful protestations of his body. He held his breath, ears pricked. Yes, it was the sound of running water. It was unmistakable.

He dragged himself over the tree root he'd been lying on. His whole body felt astoundingly heavy. His legs were limp, trailing uselessly behind him. He took fistfuls of earth and weeds and creepers and hauled himself across the forest floor, the sound of the water growing tantalisingly closer with each minute that passed. With his last ounce of strength, he brought himself to the crest of a steep slope which disappeared down into a clump of thick undergrowth and mossy rocks. Unfortunately, he had overshot the lip of the small cliff by some distance, his upper body dangling helplessly over the edge. With almost comic slowness, he began to slide inexorably forward. He gave a panicked yell and grabbed desperately at the plants around him, but they tore off in big clumps in his fists. He fell, then tumbled and rolled, limbs flailing like a ragdoll. Stones and branches clattered around him during his descent, then pummelled him as he came to an abrupt halt against a large boulder, his fall somewhat cushioned by the untouched mounds of dead leaves that had settled at the bottom of the cliff. He moaned deep in his throat and slowly pushed himself upright into a sitting position. If he squinted, he could see through the gaps in the undergrowth before him to see what lay beyond. He gasped, all pain suddenly forgotten, and began to clamber through the thick tangle of branches. He was bloody and bruised and broken, but this paled into insignificance when he planted his dirty face straight into the chill water of the glorious pool before him. He drank and drank until his stomach ached, then rolled onto his back, gasping and spluttering.

The pool sat in a clearing, shafts of golden light flickering down onto the still water, water that was so clear that you could see straight to the very bottom. Slippery black rocks surrounded the pool on all sides, ascending sharply into a steep shadowy wall at the far end, a gentle cascade of water glittering down it in the half-light. Everything before his eyes was painted in startlingly bright greens and blues and yellows. It was beautiful. David sat up and took some of the water in his cupped hand, splashing his face and neck and his filthy limbs. It was peaceful here, entirely different from the hostile forest that encircled it. He rinsed his face once more and then stared across the clearing, blinking against the water that dripped into his eyes. He was no longer alone.

Kurt emerged from behind the rocks directly across from him, sure-footed despite the treacherous, slippery surface that he walked upon. David felt unsurprised that the boy had made an appearance, once again. Of course he would be here; his presence could be felt all over the island, the island he was an inseparable part of. David was becoming part of it now, too, and Kurt remained with him always, watchful and curious.

The boy looked especially beautiful at this moment, and David looked on, fascinated, as the impossibly pale creature stepped from rock to rock with easy grace before crouching and slithering into the waiting pool, the water dark and deep and seeming to swallow him whole within moments. The water rippled minutely and then stilled. David watched with bated breath. He could see Kurt moving between the rocks and weeds beneath the surface, fractured light shimmering across his flawless skin. Something else glinted down there with him; one moment it looked like silver coins collected amongst the swaying green fronds, the next it was like a shivering, shining shoal of fish. David squinted and crawled forward, trying to decipher the strange image before him. The boy had disappeared again, perhaps flitting into some unseen cave beneath the water. Hadn't he run out of air yet? Concerned, David leaned further over the water, his haggard reflection greeting him as he peered downwards. Not for long, though; his mirror image suddenly dissipated into a million fragments and a new face emerged through it, shattering the stillness of the pool. Kurt had risen up unseen and had appeared before David, but now he was not just a fleeting glimpse from across the beach, or the tender caress of caring hands on the edge of sleep; he was right there, a mere fraction from David's face, his features now so very clear that David felt dizzy and overwhelmed with awe. He inhaled sharply, eyes blown wide, trying to comprehend the suddenness and the closeness of such wonderful and terrible beauty. Kurt gazed up at him with eyes so lovely and blue, drops of water clinging to his eyelashes and drawing paths down his nose and cheeks, collecting between his pale pink lips. David gaped silently in wonder, probably looking every bit as intoxicated as he felt.

'I must've... fainted in the forest. My ribs, I think. I got lost. I was looking for... I don't know,' he blithered, Kurt looking at him innocuously with his round eyes. 'I was looking for you,' he finished, defeated, slurring slightly as if in the grip of a drunken stupor.

To his surprise, Kurt seemed to have understood his words. A smile as bright and as pleasing as warm sunshine spread across the boy's face. Arms that were icy cold and dripping were circling David's neck like a horse harness, pulling him forward. Something unreadable burned in the boy's bright eyes, and David let himself be dragged downwards, feelings as if every bone in his body had suddenly been removed. Oh, and there were lips on his now, so very cold but filling David with a new and unquenchable thirst. Fingers raked up his bare back and tangled in the hair at the nape of his neck, and the ice was replaced with fire.

_This is love,_ David's mind chanted over and over in ecstasy. Then the world tilted, water roared past his ears and up his nose and everything went dark and cool and silent. He opened his eyes, Kurt's mouth still pressed resolutely against his. They had sunk to the bottom of the pool, water weeds wafting upwards around them. Bubbles of spent air trailed from the corner of David's mouth. Kurt pulled back, his skin tinted green in the underwater light and his eyes wide and shining. His arms were still locked around David's neck. Something large was winding its way slowly around the pirate's legs, and he tore his gaze from those brilliant eyes and looked down. A cloud of bubbles burst forth from his mouth as he opened it wide in a silent yell of horror. Kurt no longer had legs. A tail -coated in clinking silver scales as big as Spanish dollars- was coiling tightly around him with the deadly vice-like grip of a snake. Kurt smiled, his white hands cupping David's face tenderly. David began to struggle, injuries be damned. He thrashed and struck out with his fists, and the boy let go in surprise, his tail loosening its' grip. David struck out against the water and propelled himself upwards, breaking through the surface of the pool, lungs burning. Spluttering, he heaved himself out of the water and clung gratefully to the mossy ground.

Kurt's head followed moments after, bobbing just above the water. He was looking at David ruefully, his lip turned down in a slight pout. David got the feeling that he hadn't meant any harm.

'I don't think that's a game we should play again,' he grumbled, exhausted. 'I'm not like you. I can't live underwater. I'm just a man.' He wriggled his legs to illustrate the point. Kurt swam up to the edge of the pool, arms outstretched.

'No,' David warned, shuffling nervously away from his grasp. 'No,' he reiterated, slowly and clearing, looking into Kurt's eyes seriously as if scolding a small child. 'You frightened me.'

Kurt folded his arm across a rock and nestled his head into the crook of his elbow, his gaze lowered, looking sweetly remorseful.

'I'm not falling for that,' sighed David, sitting up and running a hand through his wet hair. He didn't believe his own words for a minute, but he valued his life over a pretty face any day. Well, probably. 'I don't really feel like being drowned, thank you very much. I think it best if I go back to the shelter and rest for a while. I'm sure I'll see you... around. Make the most of it, I'll be leaving soon.'

David struggled to his knees, his breeches sodden and unpleasant against his thighs. He half-heartedly squeezed the water out of them by wringing the bottom of each leg and then clambered to his feet, still in considerable pain and feeling utterly miserable. He looked up at the steep slope that he had fallen down earlier, trying to think of a way to get back up it without breaking his neck. There was a gnarled tree that grew from beside the pool and up towards the top of the cliff that looked sturdy enough to climb. He had a foot steady on one of its bottom branches, when a small voice said:

'Don't go.'

David looked over his shoulder. Kurt was standing behind him, having resumed his human shape and looking as pale and deceptively lovely as ever. He was toying with his necklace, the pearly shells making pretty noises against one another. He gazed at David imploringly.

'You can talk?' David asked uncertainly, wondering if he had merely imagined the voice.

'A small... a little bit,' Kurt answered, saying each word carefully. His voice was high and soft, every bit as melodic as when he sang his strange, enchanting songs.

'Why didn't you speak to me before?' asked David, stepping down from the tree to face the boy. He felt that the imminent threat of being drowned was over, but kept his hand on an impromptu blade he'd made from a piece of flint that was tucked into his belt, just in case.

'Scared. I was... scared.'

'Of me?'

Kurt nodded earnestly. 'But I see you, umm... you are good?'

'Oh,' said David. He suddenly became aware of how hard his heart was beating in his chest, his pulse drumming a furious tattoo in his ears. He took a step forward and then hesitated. 'You know I won't hurt you?' he asked, softly.

'Yes,' said the boy, but David only saw his lips move, his voice so quiet it was lost beneath the sounds of the forest.

David moved closer still. He expected Kurt to dart off at any moment, but no, not this time. When there was only a fraction of space left between them, David stopped. They looked at each other wordlessly, an intense energy sparking back and forth within the silence. David brought his hands up to rest on Kurt's shoulders. _How does this boy – a merman, no less – know how to speak? While living on an island so isolated it has probably yet to exist on any maps?_ With Kurt's eyes wide and expectant and his lips lightly parted in anticipation, David found these thoughts quickly trickling out of his mind like dry sand. He wrapped his arms around Kurt and drew him close, held him tightly in his arms.

'Do you love me?' he asked suddenly, the words tumbling from his mouth before he had the chance to think them through. Any feelings of sheepishness were swiftly banished when Kurt crowed '_yes!_' and surged upwards to reward him with an enthusiastic kiss.

_Love, yes._ They held one another and kissed one another beneath the failing orange light of evening, and David wouldn't have cared if this was his first or fourth hundredth evening on the island as long as they all ended with the tender chorus of Kurt's happy sighs and those soft, soft lips beneath his own.

'Love you,' Kurt breathed, his hands on the back of David's neck.

'Mmm,' David mumbled dazedly in response.

Kurt laid kisses as light as the touch of bird wings on water over David's cheeks, on his eyelids, his throat.

'Love...'

'Mmhmm...'

'Te amo...'

David's eyes flicked open.

'Si... oh, je t'aime...'

He pulled back slightly and regarded Kurt, brow furrowed in confusion.

'What did you say?'

Kurt gasped, obviously just as surprised as David was at his lapse into various European languages during lovemaking.

'Scusa... oh, sorry. Sometimes... I forget myself. There have been so many.'

_So many? So many what?_

But then Kurt was kissing him again regardless, and David found himself being urged to lie down in the soft leafy earth beneath their feet.

_Never mind, _he thought dreamily._ Anything and everything... the whole world can wait 'til the morning._

* * *

><p>And there we have it, the end of another chapter! I hope it was all right. I'm not terribly good at the whole AU thing, but I enjoyed writing it nonetheless! :) See you next chapter!<p> 


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